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<title>Wishing Doesn't Make It So by BrighteyedJill</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26778655">Wishing Doesn't Make It So</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrighteyedJill/pseuds/BrighteyedJill'>BrighteyedJill</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M, Past Rape/non-con (implied), Slavery, Sorceresses and Witchers don't have emotions right?, Whumptober 2020</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 04:49:28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,471</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26778655</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrighteyedJill/pseuds/BrighteyedJill</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Yennefer agrees to help Geralt find Jaskier after he's been taken by the Nilfgaardian army. She's only helping as a favor to Geralt, not because she cares even a bit what happens to the bard. Really.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>389</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Whumptober 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Wishing Doesn't Make It So</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is for the Whumptober prompt "in the hands of the enemy."</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Yennefer looked over the group of freed slaves huddled at one end of the camp, who stared back at her with fear and suspicion. She sighed, and said, “He’s not here, Geralt.”</p><p>“He has to be here.” Geralt, his eyes black with toxicity and his hand bone-white on the hilt of his sword, glanced around the ruins of the camp, strewn with the bodies of soldiers, captives, and necrophages alike. “I… he has to be.”</p><p>There were many things Yennefer could have said to that, but she held her tongue. She knew well that wishing someone was safe didn’t make it so. She had gone along with Geralt’s frantic search when he’d begged her for help--the man really needed to learn not to promise “anything” in exchange for her help--but she didn’t hold out much hope of finding Jaskier alive. </p><p>With the Nilfgaardians smashing the armies of the north, putting fields and villages to the torch, and taking as many slaves as they could get their hands on, there were a thousand ways the bard could have died. Humans were so very fragile. Though Geralt’s tracking skills were excellent, finding one man in the middle of a war was a fools’ errand. And that was before factoring in the necrophages that had decimated the camp before Yennefer and Geralt had arrived, sparing neither the Nilfgaardians or their captive slaves.</p><p>“I’m going to check the rest of the camp.” Geralt strode away towards the carnage strewn around the camp perimeter. Among the bodies was where Geralt was most likely to find Jaskier, but it was better that he do so alone. </p><p>Yennefer turned back to the milling mass of peasants and asked, “Is this all the captives? Were there any others in the camp?”</p><p>No one met her eyes, nor spoke. Yennefer clenched her teeth. Why did humans have to make everything so gods-damned difficult? She could pluck what she needed out of their minds, but she was so <i>tired</i> after the profligate use of magic in dispatching the remaining Nilfgaardians. She put the snap of command into her voice instead. “Answer me!”</p><p>An older woman stepped forward, putting her arms out protectively in front of the children behind her. “Yes, mistress,” she said. “They take some of the prettier young lads and lasses away to entertain the officers, but they’re dead, like as not.”</p><p>Well, at least here was someone with some sense. “Where?” Yennefer asked.</p><p>“Tent on the hill, there.” The woman pointed.</p><p>“Take anything of value you can find and leave as soon as you can,” Yennefer said. “Don’t get too close to the witcher.”</p><p>“Yes, mistress,” the woman said. “No mistress.” Without turning her back on Yennefer, she began shooing the children away. </p><p>Yennefer turned and trudged up the hill towards the officers tent at the center of camp. She’d promised to help Geralt look, after all, no matter how impossible the hope that they’d recover his bard. The ground was ankle-deep in mud; it’d be awful cleaning this dress. And she probably needn’t bother investigating, anyway. The necrophages would have finished off any other captives even if the Nilfgaardians hadn’t. And she didn’t particularly want to know anything about the officers' methods of entertaining themselves. But still, she went.</p><p>The interior of the officers’ tent was dim and smokey; the lanterns that hung from tentpoles were nearly burnt down. The place was scattered with pallets and blankets, though any musk of sex was overwhelmed by the stink of dead ghoul. Several of the monsters lay strewn across the tent floor, along with body parts still sporting the remains of Nilfgaardian uniforms. Yennefer picked her way through the mess to a closed set of flaps at the other end of the tent. Strong light spilled from between the fabric from a chamber beyond. Yennefer didn’t bother to brace herself for the sight of more death before shoving the tent flap aside. </p><p>A dozen or so humans in various states of undress stood in a tight formation, brandishing makeshift weapons and blazing torches. At the front, clutching a silver dagger, stood Jaskier. His shoulders slumped visibly when he recognized her. </p><p>“Stand down,” he said in a raspy croak as he looked back at the other humans. “She’s not here to hurt us.” He turned back and raised an eyebrow at her as the corner of his mouth turned up--an attempt at a Jaskier-like expression. “Are you?”</p><p>“The monsters are dead,” Yennefer said, addressing the humans, mostly younger women with a few handsome boys in the mix. “You should leave this place before more soldiers arrive. Take anything useful you can find, and go.” She stood aside, holding the flap open, and the former slaves hurried out. </p><p>One rosy-cheeked girl holding a cudgel stopped for a whispered exchange with Jaskier, but he patted her hand and pushed her gently towards the exit. When she was gone, Jaskier let the dagger slip from his fingers and collapsed on his hands and knees. Yennefer stepped instead and let the tent flap drop behind her. </p><p>Jaskier wore only a ripped-up pair of breeches, and Yennefer couldn’t help but see the evidence of captivity on his exposed body. The lines of his ribs stood out against bruise-mottled skin decorated here and there with cuts and scrapes. Heavy manacles hung on his wrists, and a metal collar around his neck. </p><p>“You look like shit,” Yennefer said. </p><p>“Do you have to be such a witch all the time?” Jaskier asked, but his smile was back, brighter now. “Thank you for coming. If there’d been more necrophages, I’m not certain…” He dragged himself up onto his knees and wrapped his arms around his too-skinny chest. “Thank you.”</p><p>“Geralt insisted,” Yennefer said crisply. </p><p>“He’s here?” The way Jaskier’s face lit up at the question made Yennefer’s stomach twist. </p><p>“Out looking for your corpse,” she said. </p><p>“Oh. I’d better tell him he’s not rid of me yet. He’ll be terribly disappointed.” Jaskier rapped out a sound that may have been intended as a laugh, but he did not move. </p><p>“He’s used to disappointment.” Yennefer stepped forward slowly, and knelt in the dirt before Jaskier. Her dress was already ruined anyway. She reached her arm out in an exaggerated motion so Jaskier would have time to pull away. He didn’t. She touched the metal collar. The clasp separated, and it fell to the ground with a dull thud. Then she touched each of his wrists, likewise ridding him of the manacles. </p><p>Jaskier sat with his hands resting on his thighs, looking at the dirty and abraded skin revealed by the removal of his bonds. Yennefer wasn’t certain she’d ever seen him so terribly still. </p><p>“Are you hurt?” she asked. She wasn’t certain why she’d asked. The bard was alive, and found, and that’s all Geralt had requested. Nursemaid duties hadn't been part of their understanding.</p><p>Jaskier shook his head, but he didn’t look at her.</p><p>“You know Geralt can smell blood,” she said. “And other things as well.”</p><p>“I…” Jaskier let out a shaky breath. “I’ll wash. I’ll get clean. You….” He swallowed hard. “I would take it as a great personal favor if you could not tell him… Not tell him that…”</p><p>“Ah.” Yennefer glanced back over her shoulder towards the main tent where the Nilfgaardian officers had taken their entertainment. “Yes.” Then she added quickly, “If you make it worth my while.”</p><p>Jaskier’s eyes snapped up to look at her, wide and afraid.</p><p>Yennefer held back a flinch. That wasn't what she'd meant. “You’ll owe me a favor,” she said. “For a later date. Perhaps I’ll commission a truly awful song.”</p><p>“Thank you.” Jaskier pushed to his feet and wobbled, Yennefer stood and caught his arm to steady him. He put his hand over hers and held onto it like a lifeline as he gulped in breath. She let him cling to her. She wasn't in much of a hurry; Geralt would certainly insist on staying until all the bodies were burned anyway, so she had time. When Jaskier at last collected himself and straightened, Yennefer pulled away.</p><p>“I’ll find you some clothes,” Yennefer said, and turned to go. </p><p>“Yen,” Jaskier said. His voice was still rough, but no longer shaky. “Why are you here?”</p><p>“Geralt asked for my help,” she said, without looking back. “That’s all.”</p><p>“Ah.” Jaskier said lightly. “I’ll have to thank him, then. When I see him.”</p><p>“That’s right.” If it weren’t for Geralt, Yennefer wouldn’t be here. That thought shouldn’t have sent a tiny strand of fear curling in her belly, but it did. She ignored it. “Wait here,” she said. “I know you don’t want to be seen looking like a ragpicker.”</p><p>“No, certainly not.” Jaskier’s voice sounded warm and fond. “After all, there’s my reputation to think of.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Join me for more Witcher-y stuff on Tumblr: <a href="https://www.tumblr.com/blog/brighteyedjill">brighteyedjill</a>.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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